Toxic
by DixonVixen93
Summary: "They Call Him Pookie" 'verse: While the flu is spreading rampant across the cellblock, four of the survivors must take a risk of their own to go out, searching for the antibiotics. Merle and Michonne explore a new chapter in their relationship, over the danger that was looming around the prison. Merchonne.


**Hey again! Yes, here's another installment of my "They Call Him Pookie" 'verse. Not much Michonne in the third episode, so I'll have to make due with what I have, and add more. Just like normal, right? **

**I do not own The Walking Dead. Here's my version of "Isolation".**

_**Toxic**_

Merle Dixon was never one to follow the rules, before the apocalypse or after. When he wanted to do something, you were hard-pressed to convince him otherwise. With this new virus spreading through the prison, everyone had the chance of being infected. Those that were in the D-block at the time of the attack yesterday morning, they were all starting to get sick. This meant that those from the C-Block, who had been exposed to the infected cellblock, were now at risk.

The doctors—Dr. S and Hershel—had advised everyone that had been exposed to wear masks. Merle wasn't exactly overjoyed at the fact that he had to wear a mask whenever he was around the unexposed, like his girlfriend Michonne. He probably shouldn't be in too close of quarters with her, but Merle didn't care. He felt fine, dammit! The redneck told himself that he would wear the stupid bandana, for the sake of his woman. He would take the normal precautions, but there was nothing that could keep him away from seeing her, as long as he was in able health.

He came around to Michonne's cell, a little grin forming at his lips when he spotted his girlfriend. She had her injured foot in her lap, examining the healing cut with a light grimace. The dark-skinned survivor saw Merle come in and, automatically, her attention went to him. They shared a quick smile, which prompted Merle to speak first.

"Your foot healin' up alright?"

She just nodded, putting her leg back down on the ground. "Still sore, but I can walk on it."

An awkward silence filled the air once more. Neither of them were very good with words during bad times like this. Usually, their form of comfort was physical, which was impossible now with everyone being so sick.

"How's it lookin' back there?" Michonne asked, referring to the isolation in the A-block. Her expression softened some as her boyfriend came closer and plopped down next to her in bed.

"It ain't lookin' so good, babe," Merle started, his eye locking with hers. "Everyone's gettin' sick. We still don't know who killed Karen and David. But, shit, Tyreese and Officer Friendly got into it yesterday, according to my baby brother. Rick's hand was pretty banged up; farmer Hershel had to patch him up."

"What are we gonna do for the sick—"

"There ain't nothin' we can do quite yet," the redneck told her. Again, he wanted to reach over and grab her hand, but he had to keep himself together. If she got sick 'cause he couldn't keep his hands to himself, he would never be able to forgive himself. "Daryl's in a council meetin' now. Said he'd let us know what was going on afterwards."

The couple shared a quick look, to which Merle added, "ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Mich?"

"Dunno, Kitten. You tell me," Michonne quirked an eyebrow, prompting a hearty chuckle from her boyfriend.

"Let's go crash this council meetin'. That's what I'm thinking." Merle got up, and was taken by surprise when he felt his girlfriend lace her fingers through his. Michonne too got up and quickly embraced the redneck.

He brought both of his arms around her and held onto her tightly. "What's this for?" he asked, glancing down at the dark-skinned survivor.

"Because," she murmured, a small smile coming across her face. "Yesterday, you walked away before I got the chance to tell you…. That I love you too."

"When we make it through this ancient flu, I'm gonna prove to you how serious I am about this," Merle's voice dropped down to a rasp, resting his chin on top of her head. "I ain't gonna wait a year like my baby brother had to tell his woman how he felt. I'm gonna make you mine, and everyone else will just have to fuckin' deal."

"Everyone knows. I think you've made it pretty clear before—" Michonne pulled away to get a good look at her redneck.

"Well, now they're gonna know 'cause of a big ol' diamond ring on your finger," Merle grinned down at his girlfriend, rendering her speechless.

"You're being serious?" the katana-wielding survivor asked, unsure of how to respond. She would say yes, but… did he really mean it?

"Why wouldn't I be? I don't waste my breath on things that ain't worth my while," the redneck told her, pulling on her hand ever so slightly, "now c'mon. We got us some Gumshoeing to do."

o—o—o

"So, we go to this college and get these antibiotics," Michonne started, glancing around the room at the members of the council. "What happens if we come back and it's all too late?"

"You do your best to get it to us as quickly as possible," Hershel explained, fidgeting slightly in his chair. "it's something that none of us want to think about, but it is entirely possible. At the way that this virus is spreading—"

"No. Not today. Not these people," Daryl spoke up, scooting his chair back under as he shot up to his feet. "Merle, ya comin' with me or not?"

The elder Dixon brother nodded. "To the end, baby brother," he then looked towards his girlfriend, "you comin', babe?"

Michonne said not a word, she just moved over to the Dixon boys like a brisk wildcat, brave and confident.

"Michonne, Daryl and Merle were both in the D-Block the other morning. One or both of them might be infected," the farmer warned her. She just laughed it off and came up with a witty comeback.

"Well, Daryl's already given me fleas. And Merle has—" the Nubian Queen trailed off, not even bothering to finish her sentence. "There are so many different things I could add on, but I'll save you all from the graphic images." She just shook her head, "we'll be fine."

Michonne slung her bag over her shoulder and headed over to where Merle and Daryl had their heads stuck under the hood of the car that they had planned on taking out.

"You can't hook those two together, boy! Didn't I teach yer ass anythin'?" the elder Dixon griped, shooing his brother away.

His girlfriend stopped next to Daryl, who just shrugged when she looked his way. "Kitten, what are you doing?"

"Huh?" Merle called from under the hood. "Now, hold on," he added. Within under a minute, he had slammed the hood back down, satisfied with his work. "I was just workin' wit' this dingbat brother o' mine," he cut his eyes over at the younger Dixon brother. "Boy don't know his way around the hood of a car. Almost ashamed to call him my kin."

Michonne couldn't help but laugh at the two brothers. "Is the car ready to go? I hate to break it to you, but the fact that you can put a car back together faster than Daryl doesn't mean much when it comes to what we need the car _for_."

"Yeah, yeah. She's ready alright," Merle waved his good hand dismissively. "Is it just gonna be the three o' us goin'?"

"We gotta have someone to get us the right antibiotics. I vote Bob comes with us," Daryl suggested, glancing over at his brother and could-be sister-in-law. "He'll at least recognize the names o' 'em, right?"

The dark-skinned survivor shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"I'll go get him. Gotta get the list of meds from Hershel, anyway," the younger Dixon brother went off to the C-Block to find Hershel, leaving Merle and Michonne to themselves.

Merle stepped closer to his woman, smiling down at her devilishly. "Just you an' me now, huh?"

"For now," Michonne answered him, her voice close to a deadpan. "What are you planning now, MerleyBear?"

The redneck was about to pull his girlfriend closer and show her exactly what he had in mind, but he had that nagging little voice in the back of his head. His voice of reason, more or less. The tense atmosphere came back, reminding him of the monster flu spreading through the prison like wildfire.

"For now, I'm just gonna have to keep that thought to myself, my Nubian Queen," he smiled at her once more, this time his expression was much softer. Michonne returned the smile as he opened the passenger door for her, seeing her to her seat. He climbed in on the driver's side, a rough sigh escaping his lips.

His Nubian Queen glanced over at him, a worried expression in place. She didn't say a word, however, she just lightly caressed his cheek. The contact wasn't very much, but it was enough.

o—o—o

On their way to the college for supplies, the car was silent. Merle, Daryl, and Michonne, they were all family. Bob, however, he felt out of place. He sat in the backseat with Daryl, fidgeting worriedly. The silence sure wasn't helping.

"When everyone is well again, that's when I'll start my venture to Macon," Michonne mentioned, getting a look from her boyfriend over from the driver's seat, "our venture to Macon," she corrected herself.

"Babe, I ain't so keen 'bout this whole thing," Merle admitted, tightening his grip on the steering wheel with his one good hand. "I get that ya wanna go after him. And I do too," he shook his head, smiling oddly. "Ya know more than anyone else that I'd love to do nothing more'n get back at his ass for e'erthin' he's done—"

"Just spit it out," Michonne spat, "it's a wild goose chase. Yes, I realize this." She glanced down at her lap, fighting the urge to maintain her façade. "I'm not going to stop until he's dead."

The redneck sighed, brushing his bayonet against her arm. "Me an' Daryl will go with you. We ain't about to let you go by yourself."

His girlfriend just nodded, pushing his arm away. "Just watch where you're goin'," she murmured.

"Hey," Daryl piped up from the backseat, "there should be some CD's over there in the glove compartment."

Michonne took the hint and turned the volume up for the radio as she went raiding through the collection of CD's. "Whose are these anyway?" There were many pop hits, so maybe it was from Maggie and Beth. But the hard rock hits made her think that Daryl and Merle had something to do with it. The katana-wielding survivor went to pop in a mixed CD, when she heard some feedback from the radio.

"The fuck?" Merle did a double take back at the radio. "Was I the only son o' a bitch that heard voices?"

"I heard 'em too, bro," Daryl replied, watching Michonne as she turned up the volume a little louder.

"…_.Sanctuary…."_

The radio then went silent, leaving the four survivors scratching their heads.

They came up on a lone walker in the middle of the road. Merle was able to circle his way around it, bypassing an unknowing herd of walkers. The elder Dixon took in a deep breath before he broke the silence.

"Now, what the hell? What did they mean by _sanctuary_? Are there other survivors?"

"It's possible," Daryl added, "look at Woodbury. Ya'll had it good for a while."

"But why would someone be broadcasting the fact that they have this so-called sanctuary? Shouldn't they be keeping that to themselves in case the wrong person hears this?" Michonne mentioned. "For example… the Governor?"

"Maybe they don't know how bad it is out there," Bob suggested. "A man can be a fool until he steps foot out in the wilderness and eyewitnesses things himself."

"Maybe," Daryl shrugged. "Guess we'll just have to see how things play out."

**And there we have it. Sorry episode three is so late, guys. Had to thunk extra hard about how I wanted this 'verse to play out, against what's going on in the series. Ya'll know what to do!**


End file.
